My Story by Darcy Lewis
by Adaobi
Summary: I came across the Darcy is Not Human prompt and just started tapping away, it was initially going to be a one-shot, but unfortunately, my hands got carried away. Warriorshock will probably happen eventually... First POV. Unreliable Narrator.
1. 17th century

My name is Darcy Lewis and I'm a vampire, well technically that's the closest thing I can call myself. Okay, that might be an exaggeration. You see I've always been this way, different. I'm a quirk of nature, God's own personal joke, the jockstrap of life that keeps smacking into your face for no reason other than it can.

I was born in 1658 in England, the daughter of a farmer, and as those of you with internet and a pair of Wikipedia hands will know, this was a good time to exist. Sorry, sarcasm doesn't work well on paper. I was born a few years after the English Civil War and being from Plymouth didn't help matters much. I was born during the last year of Richard Cromwell's rule and also enjoyed the Second Commonwealth of England and some other random stuff I can't remember. Seriously, I was an infant all I did was eat, poop and sleep.

Although, I remember my father congratulating me when I was 10 for my divine resilience. I never fell sick, even after the plague that killed my mother and brother the previous year. I stayed by their bedside, feeling stronger, while they lay dying. This was my body doing what it did best - fighting while casually throwing the V at it.

My father hoped I would marry a good husband and live a good life. By the time puberty hit, he took to having a sharpened cutlass and pitchfork ready. Also, the loaded musket he pilfered from a dead solider years ago, didn't hurt. He also taught me how to fight. He always used to say "Just because you're pretty, doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to thoroughly thwack a tosser in the bullocks." I miss him, I'll never really know how he still held onto the farm or how he knew all the points to kill a man with little effort. I've a funny feeling father might have had more to him than met the eye.

Sadly, he died when I was 23, with all his secrets, he never remarried and strangely never really bothered about the Lewis line dying with me. Little did he know that his last gift would keep his line intact.

By 25, I still retained my father's farm, through the aid of his friend, who posed as my uncle, to keep the crazies in check. But, I was young and restless, I used my gifts to get anywhere, anything and everywhere. Well, this was Plymouth in the 17th century, what exactly did you expect me to do? Become a nun, invent the Cornish Pasty? By 26, I was a single mother for a week, my baby wasn't as strong as I was and Uncle stayed with me. I let myself grieve and mourned my son, Daniel Eric Lewis. Of course, I can laugh now, centuries later that he could have been named Daniel Day-Lewis.

Eventually, I sold my land to Uncle, he let me live in it and even provided me a fair wage, which was unheard of at the time. I sensibly saved and hid it well, since I planned to eventually leave Plymouth. By 28, I noticed I still looked 21, unlike my peers who looked 40. Look, 17th century England's hardships made the current world order's problems look like a petulant child.

By 30, I had to leave Plymouth since Uncle had married an 18 year old, who thought I was encroaching her territory, the girl was funny that way. Plus, she did start the rumour I was a witch, who was sucking the life out her husband. I think she meant that both literally and figuratively. It had nothing to do with the fact he was pushing 60 or that I was Wonder Woman before Wonder Woman existed.

I moved to Exeter, where my youthful looks unwittingly helped me pass as 18. I did miss Uncle and those good old boys of the Royal Navy, but a girl can still enjoy herself, this time I was more sensible and deterred the sounds of little feet as best I could. Again, my body saved me from unwanted ailments and kept getting stronger, whenever something new tried to invade my body.

Yes, I've glossed over the Glorious Revolution and the Bill of Rights. Look it wasn't fun, I lost a friend or two, change needed to happen in Britain, it doesn't mean I get to dwell on these amazing changes and the direct effect they had on me. So, I'm allowed to forget, I'm almost 4 centuries old and it's my story.


	2. 18th century

A new century, a new dawn, it began with the Act of Settlement, yippie go England! Yeah, yeah, it happened I was still a woman enjoying her Wonder Womaness. Look, I never wanted to be royalty, I was a Plymouth girl, who liked the Royal Navy a tad too much. Who felt a special connection to the structure now known as Smeaton's Tower, since it was built a year after my birth. Plus, at least two or ten of my top fifty sexual encounters occurred in it.

What?! I'm no saint! It was bloody fantastic, especially on a stormy night. Those stairs were a pain, but with the right man, men, woman, women...hello, not a saint! Did you not watch or read Dorian Gray? Look those days, life expectancy was significantly shorter, there was no internet and ready access to movies and music. So logically you do the next logical thing - you either give yourself to the Lord or shag yourself into his naughty list. Drinking also helped.

Sorry, I'm supposed to be talking about the 18th century. By 1705, I had met and married a reasonable man after my years of sensible debauchery, he was a trusty worthy and honourable man named William. He was also an observant man, who noticed I never coughed once and seemed to recover from drinking sessions that would shame the Devil. Plus, the rumours started again, since I still looked fresh faced in the ravages of harsh Britannia.

Instead of sending me to the gallows, to be hanged, drawn and quartered. Yes folks, it was hard out there for an English subject. He suggested we move to Salisbury and he did the impossible he took my name when we married. No his love wasn't boundless - okay it was, but his crazy murderer of a father had been recently hanged and being born William Ernest Elliott, Jr. was a terrible burden, when the William Ernest Elliott, Sr. was known as Killer Bill, the Butcher of Devon. Yes, I laughed when both films came out, but I digress. The biopic based on Killer Bill and that unrelated film called Kill Bill, I really should stop digressing.

He became Ernest William Lewis, thank God, we didn't have computers and CCTV then, he would have been found out in a heartbeat. We stayed in Exeter for a short time and finally left for Salisbury. By the end of 1706, we had settled there and started our family.

By 1710, we had two children, Daniel Eric Lewis and Molly Kelly Lewis. Poor Molly, her father named her after his mother, since he let me name our son after my precious boy. I know I already said William was an honest lad, but he really was, I even told him my secret, you should have seen his face, the glee on it, he called me "a miracle of nature and science."

Plus, he was ecstatic that he pulled an older woman, I really know how to find and marry the one true nerd of England. William was a great husband and friend, he gave me a loving family and also my greatest sorrow - loss. We had four more children, he was a scholar with ties to Cambridge, Oxford and St. Andrews, so we were comfortable, not rich, but richer than I had ever been (at the time), I still saved money though. Explaining to our children proved difficult, but we got there eventually. Of course, it got tricky over the years, then we moved further into Salisbury, wife and mother became daughter and sister, who was named after their mother.

We were married for 55 years, by then I became grand-daughter and niece. All my 6 children survived through adulthood and aged accordingly. My secret became the Lewis secret, shared between my descendants. William passed away still calling me a miracle. I still visit my family from time to time under the guise of cousin. My descendants always knew who I was, since there was always a picture/painting/sketch of great grand whatever around. Obviously, spouses were rarely told, we still had entertaining ways to die in Great Britain.

Anyway, thanks to William our daughters were educated and married sensible men. Yes our sons married sensible women. Who knew that nerd would be the standard for all my future trusted companions, until that Scandinavian woman became the gold standard.

By 1770 or was it 1780? It was 1770, shagged that guy at University of Cambridge, then shagged his girlfriend senseless later after she complained he was tired. Obviously, not in the same place and they didn't know they had the same woman in the space of two hours.

Where was I? Yes 1770, I was living in Cambridge to honour my deceased husband. Look, I had spent 60 years being a wife, mother, grandmother and great grandmother. I'm allowed to enjoy sensible debauchery, I was a hundred and twelve, I can be bad all by myself.

How could I forget my 100th birthday in 1758? By then I was a wife for 43 years, I was also a granddaughter, who would be transitioning into a great granddaughter in a few years, don't question Lewis logic...I remember how William felt, he would have been in his early 60s, he still teased that he was now dirty old man, who got to live out his fantasy and every other man's fantasy - the older woman and the eternally young woman. I remember my children clinging on, each now looking older than their mother, my grandchildren a bit confused, some with knowing smiles... This was the last time I had all my direct descendants in one room, with hindsight I now realise we all knew this. Everytime I recall this day, I can smell and feel them a little bit stronger. I can feel William becoming weaker, Molly's tears of joy have now taken a new coat of sadness...No I cannot dwell on this. So moving on...

By 1780, all my savings finally came handy, Daniel Eric Lewis, Jr. convinced me to start using banks, maybe the fact he held a high ranking position at the Bank of England. Thanks to my son and then my grandson, they had constructed a rather elaborate bank account for me. To be frank, I have always ignored banks, that whole episode with Charles I claiming all the gold at the Royal Mint. Yes that happened before my time, but as a child who grew up after the Civil War, who also lived around the losing side...some things are expected.

Where was I? Yes elaborate, my nerdy boys had a painting commission to show my likeness, there was something about a family tradition of naming a daughter, who favoured a certain ancestor Darcy Lewis, it was a trust of some sort and I believe they used the words "eccentric nobility" at some point. Look, I married the one true nerd of England, who unwittingly created the line of one true nerds. The name Daniel Eric Lewis became synonymous with English banking, plus they also helped me become the richest woman alive. Obviously, no one knows this, it's not fraud, but trying to explain you're immortal doesn't always help, and the kind of probing offered is not to my liking, I'm a woman of standards.

I never remarried, the fact that I would lose my children, grandchildren, great grandchild...we would be here all day, if I keep listing all the descendants I have lost and will lose. Of course, I had lovers...many lovers, but never a true companion, never met anyone who could stoke my mind and my body as William could, until that Scandinavian woman.

* * *

**A/N**: Honestly, I'm just letting my fingers run by themselves and relying heavily on The Unreliable Narrator style. Initially, I was going to make Sif, a random Scandinavian she fell for, then encountered her ancestor/reincarnation in the 20th century. Darcy was following her descendants or had a case of serendipity, but I thought the former was stalker-ish, the latter was too much of a coincidence.  
So, decided it would be Lady Sif, who will end up being punished for being sidetracked by Darcy from her mission.


	3. 19th century

How does one sum up a century in less than 100000 words? You stick with the good bits, no I'll not tell you about sexual exploits, you filthy little buggers. A lady never does. Stop laughing, I'll get on with it.

Where were we? Yes now I will give you the highlights of the 19th century, that intriguing Scandinavian woman and Jack the Ripper. These two were the reasons why I left England. A tale of love, loss and the black sheep. Forgive my sentimentality, but one has to indulge in one's loss once in a while. One will stop talking like an entitled un-ironic Williamsburg hipster.

* * *

Another dawn, another century, look when you live in centuries, it gets old real quick. Well, now I was living in London. Yes, this Plymouth lass who grew up around fallen Parliamentarians went to live in the Royalists HQ. The irony wasn't lost on me, of course no one was none the wiser.

By 1802, I was settled in Kensington under the guise of an eccentric noble. You really could get away with stuff, when those two words are used properly. Plus, the perfect hat and veil were essential. Just watch an episode of Doctor Who with Madame Vastri.

An interesting thing happened during a performance of Twelfth Night in 1840. The play was interrupted during Act II, we were informed that an announcement would be made from those Scandinavians. Apparently, this was a regular occurrence for the past fortnight. The Church of Norway were on a mission on behalf of their King, some cube of great sentimental value had been stolen, something about the culprit being in England.

To be honest, I wasn't paying attention, all I saw was a woman in red, I guessed she was some kind of knight, the kind of knight you sent to end any argument with complete finality. The kind of woman you knew would not be easily swayed. The kind of woman you would spend a lifetime trying to sway. The woman I wanted to sway.

The last time I experienced this was with George, you probably know him as Lord Byron, he had a way with words, possessed a beautiful mind and his tongue was gift. Yes, in every way possible. Oh my, the things this man could do. Shame, he was never discreet and couldn't hold on to his money. Let's give George a hand.

Sorry, where was I? Xena Warrior Princess. It's a shame that I actually kinda stalked her with impunity. Okay, not really stalked, the woman was practically a bull in a china shop. She wasn't exactly subtle, gallivanting in the Norwegian colours and making her presence known. Okay, maybe I was the one doing the gallivanting, but she was sight, a tall drink of water. She was graceful in her stride, every step purposeful.

During one of my moments of not-stalking, I lost sight of her, only to sense her presence too late as I was shoved and pinned to a wall. Normally, my assailant would be picking their teeth off the ground, hours later after they had risen into consciousness, but I was now staring into the eyes, beautiful hazel eyes, of my query.

"Why have you been following me?" those curious eyes inquired, looking at my veil, trying to find what lay beneath. This was the first time I truly heard her voice, a voice of molten honey, a voice I wanted to hear whisper [and scream] my name, a voice to...as you can imagine I was very responsive. I might have gasped or gurgled...

She actually had the nerve to laugh. That didn't help either, my mind continued with its onslaught of possibilities. In an attempt to quell my lust, I took a deep calming breath. BIG mistake. I might have moaned.

This startled her, I'm guessing it's not what she expected - me cowering in fear. Instead, I was a heap of barely veiled arousal.

"May I?"

I barely nodded my approval. She removed the hand that was effortlessly pinning me to the wall, and used both her hands to gently remove my veil. Not going to lie, I felt like a precious Christmas gift.

"You're exquisite" she gasped.

I've no idea how long we stayed like this, but long enough for a guard to clear his throat. Apparently, she had been gone longer than usual.

"Give me a moment" it sounded more like a statement than a request, he nodded and quickly shuffled away. All this time, we were still in the same position; she had only turned her head to look at him.

"What is your name?"

I had to remember not to take a calming breath, "Darcy."

Good I didn't make a fool of myself.

"A name most unusual...Darcy."

Yup, I definitely made a fool of myself here. My heart might have fluttered.

"Darcy. Dar-cy. Darcy." she smirked as I responded like a cat in heat, a cat on a hot tin roof and a cat that suddenly decided to act like a dog respectively.

Of course I was pissed, I was almost two centuries old and I was acting as a mere child of 12, who had just caught their fancy's eye.

"And what is your name, do pray tell?"

"Lady Sif."

"I see. You are a knight of some sort?"

"Yes...of some sort."

"You do carry yourself well, you're a trusted knight for your liege. He believes you're the best hope of finding what he has lost."

"I admire your insight."

"I see. It is not the only thing you admire."

"Why should I not admire the painting as well as its canvas?"

"Especially the artist that stands before it."

I could see was intrigued and for some odd reason I continued with the painting metaphor, I was determined to make her my fool, just as she had made me hers.

"The artist who had slaved away creating his masterpiece of decadence, opulence and debauchery. Every stroke belaying his every desire, the pinkness of a bud here, the scarlet of wanton nymph there. He toiled away until his painting became what he truly desired. Do you know what it was called?"

By now, both her hands were resting on the wall, while I was trapped in-between. Talk about a rock and a very soft place. She shook her head, so I leaned into her, wrapped an arm around her neck bringing her closer to me and whispered in her ear.

"Sif."

She shuddered. She might have moaned after I repeated her name in her other ear. Who am I kidding? She definitely moaned. I was about to repeat it again, while my other hand was trailing from her chin down to her...

And that guard cleared his throat again. Actually this turned out to be for the best, because I would have taken that Lady there and then without an inkling of remorse. Fortunately, the Lady in question knew it, so I covered my smirky face with my veil and slipped under an arm; and sashayed the hell out of dodge.

* * *

That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Hey, cliches and tropes exist for reason. After that first encounter, I made myself scarce. I knew she wanted me, therefore she would have to find me. Well, she definitely found me when she was standing at my door. I honestly don't know how we didn't jump each other, I'm blaming Sif for that. That damn Scandinavian and her restraint. All she did was kiss my hand and then told me she would call on me soon.

Are you kidding me? We nearly shagged on a wall for Christ's sake, the least she could do was grind on me or something? I may not have used those words, but my eyes sure as hell screamed them. She just smiled and left.

She actually took me out on dates, which helped us know each other better. She went from the woman I wanted to shag constantly for 24 hours, to the woman I wanted to make love to for days and then cuddle. This woman with a sharp mind and an even sharper body.

The sex was definitely the top 20 of my life. In fact, she spoiled me for everyone and I mean everyone. I know I just said top 20, I meant she made up all of the top 20, it got so bad that I've made up a list solely of our sex escapades; and the top 20 from that list make up the top 20 of the general list. She was that good, it could only be described as godlike.

Obviously, I didn't know I was making love to an actual deity. Yes, I know she's an alien now, but I only found out about that titbit two centuries later. I honestly don't know why we never told each other our secret, I guess we knew we were living on borrowed time.

She explained to me that the cube - Tesserect - was stolen from the King's secret vault in Tønsberg by a German Ambrosius Schmidt, who believed he could use it to take over Europe. She pointed out that it was nigh impossible to unlock its box without its key. I remember thinking the delusions of a mad man, how did he think the contents of a box would solve this; little did I know his descendent would almost succeed a century later.

During the first five years we chased him around Europe. Yes, I said we, she was going to leave me in England, I didn't let her. By our fifth year, we were in Paris, this was before the Eiffel Tower destroyed the Parisian visage. Look it took almost a century for me to finally appreciate it, maybe the woman I shagged at the top of it helped, but it really is a weird looking projectile. I still call it La Prick.

She expressed a desire to abandon her mission and stay with me for the rest of my life. I was flattered and perplexed by this. Lady Sif is a woman of honour and for her to break it meant she truly cared for me. This woman loved me from within her core. I was almost 200, 187 years old to be exact and I felt the same. We pushed it to the back of our minds, while we explored our bodies anew.

She received a visit from a slender looking man, whose continence screamed mischief named Loki, I left them to their vices. Later Sif explained to me that Loki would continue with her quest and would help argue her case to her liege on her behalf. We knew our days were numbered, we travelled around Europe, enjoying its sights, tastes, smells and sounds. We made love underneath its stars, we explored each other and found ourselves.

This had to end and it did, five years later in Rome. We had just done things in the Colosseum that would shame Aphrodite. We noticed men standing in front of the villa we were staying in, including a blond imposing figure complete with a red cape and winged helmet. All I saw was the back of him, but I knew he would be someone to be reckoned with. Sif left me to talk to him, after three minutes of hushed conversation, she came back to me.

"My precious Darcy, I believe our time has come to an end. We knew this day would come. I wish we had more time, I wish I could tell you all of me. And you of me."

I gasped.

"We both know each other well, did you think I did not know you were hiding something from me, and I from you?" She smiled and kissed my head.

"Of course you did. Lady Sif the Strategist. I'll miss you. I will never see you again, will I?"

"The mission was a success. However, it seems Loki failed in convincing my liege, I am to be punished for abandoning my mission. I believe I shall never see you again."

I remember seeing the defeat in her eyes, obviously with my current knowledge, now I understand this fully. She believed I would be long dead after the end of her punishment. I believed she was a mere mortal, and her King would obviously try her for treason. The standard rate for treason in those days was death. I remember crying because I believed the love of my life was going to her certain death. I was inconsolable.

"My lady, don't cry. All I ask is for you to live your life for both us. We may never meet again, but you will forever be in my heart. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You will forever remain in my heart."

I tried to respond in kind, all I could do was kiss her with every fibre of my being. I conveyed everything I could in that kiss, it was my opus to her. An ode to our love. An eternity to our love's testament. It was the kiss that conveyed to the finality of our time together. Yes, it was one hell of a last kiss.

By now, my vision was blurry, I couldn't see anything anymore, but I do remember a male voice telling me "On my honour, no harm will come to her." I assumed it was the blond man that said that, I just closed my eyes and sobbed. "My lady, a guard will accompany you back to England. Remember, live for the both of us. Goodbye, my love."

She kissed my head goodbye one last time.

* * *

By 1851, I was back in Kensington mourning my loss. Yes, I was going to live for the both of us, but since I was almost 193, I could waste a decade or three. So I did, it took almost 20 years. By 1870, I attempted to live a normal life.

Unfortunately, we are now edging closer to Jack the Ripper. This girl could not catch a break. You see I'm a woman of simple things. I never really cared why I am the way I am, I just am. Well, remember I was married to the true nerd of England, of course one of our descendants would turn out to be a villain. Yup, dear old Jack was my great great great great great great...great great great...great great great grandson Maurice Richard Lewis.

In 1875, he visited me asking for a sample of my blood. He believed it could help cure diseases, since I never became sick. He believed there was a mutation in my genetic makeup. He also believed that my legacy might possess the strain in a latent form. Since, he had access to the matriarch of the Lewis family, he thought my blood would have the key to unlocking this mystery.

How was I going to say no? How was I supposed to know he was experimenting with cadavers and then people? He tried to to replicate himself in my own image. I slipped a few times during his weekly visits, when the 'Dear Boss' letter was published, I didn't want to believe it was him. I wish I had acted sooner.

When I confronted him at his lab, he confessed all, you should have seen his disgusting face - the pride; he had to gloat about his achievement. He found out that whenever my body was attacked by a foreign body, my antibodies successfully attacked it and then proceeded to make me stronger. He even believed that with all my advanced years I may be able to re-grow limbs, or even heal if there were attached after they had been recently severed. He also discovered that he possessed a latent strain, and that he needed a significant amount of diseases to attack his immune system simultaneously to even perceive a noticeable change. He had been injecting himself as well after he found his tests proved sufficiently successful. He found out that he couldn't just simply inject my blood into his system...

By this time during his monologue, I couldn't take it anymore, I shot him in the chest, with my father's musket. Reloaded my musket with gunpowder and ammo, shot him in the head, while he was going on about his immortality. Hacked him apart with his axe, I made sure I separated the pieces of his body. I poured copious amounts of sulphuric acid and hydrochloric acid. Kids do not try this at home. The fumes will definitely kill you. I destroyed his lab, I stayed there, I watched it burn. I made sure nothing was left.

The police went about looking for Jack the Ripper, nobody knew I had killed him. I made sure Maurice's lab fire was ruled suicide, he had been living in disgrace, he had abandoned his genuine research for a cure; the university had fired him. I had to comfort his siblings, they wanted to fight against this ruling. I explained to them that this was for the best.

Then I did something I had never done - I called a family meeting. This took the better part of 7 years to prepare. So in 1895, all my living progeny were at my home. Not just any home, my first home, my farm. During a sentimental moment, I bought back my farm from a descendent of Uncle in 1800. I also bought all the surrounding farms, what can I say, I was really sentimental.

After an intense version of hello amongst a hundred or three descendants, I had to explain to them all about Maurice and his technicolor of crazy. It didn't end well, I actually tried to dissuade them from telling their progeny about the Lewis secret. They agreed to tell their progeny about the Matriarch **and** about the consequences of villainy. The consequence being said Matriarch.

Only Daniel Eric Lewis [the whatever number he was - I gave up counting after the fifth] knew of my intention of leaving England for America, he had pulled aside my family that resided in America. We then discussed about my intentions, they were willing to help in finding the appropriate accommodation, while Daniel helped with the financial side of things.

Once again I had to explain to my family, but this time about my intention of leaving. Well, no one tried to talk me out of this one.

With a heavy heart, in 1899 after 241 years I left my England. My heart couldn't stay there anymore. It took a long time before I ever went back.

* * *

**A/N**: I didn't have the energy to proof-read this, so forgive all my mistakes. Hopefully, it didn't suck too much.


	4. 20th century

Another da- Seriously?! That's all you can come up with? You now reside in the land of the free, the country that celebrates its independence by conveniently forgetting the country they gained independence from. No hard feelings from this wee old lass, just stating the facts.

Alrighty then, you kids don't know how lucky you are, with your nifty gadgets and transportation. You kids with your flying pressurised tin-cans, high-speed underground and overground tin-cans, tin-cans built like elephants... Why the fascination with tin-cans? Moving on.

* * *

It seemed I picked a good time to experience America, the silent films, the talkies, blues, jazz, dance, feminism and the cult of personality. Wars were always fought, why men continue to dominate each other through violence, I will never know. Why can't we just work it out through civil means? How many must we lose? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions? One? I could spend an eternity admiring this viscous cycle, but I'll attempt to move on.

Speaking of moving on, thanks to that rat bastard Maurice, I found it difficult to keep my promise to Sif. My heart was both hardened and weak. I really did try, for crying out loud I took up knitting. You'd be surprised the things you can do with yarn, two French women and Swiss chocolate.

Although, I did have a thing with a Canadian named James in 1903, my very first Canadian, he had an air of danger and barely concealed sorrow in his eyes. I found a kindred spirit in loss, he could make me laugh with his brash and slightly sarcastic sense of humour. Plus, his impeccable stamina, strength and generosity as a lover didn't hurt. That Canuck could lift me on his shoulders, with my legs wrapped around his face, while he went to town on my... Only one woman ever did that, he was almost as good.

He didn't conform to the typical Canadian stereotype, he was one angry fellow - punch first ask questions never. He said bub a lot, had a cigar permanently lodged between his lips, could smell a dead rat half a mile away, his hair...in fact I wasn't surprised when he sprung bone claws. Shame, I couldn't ask him about those, since that was the last time I saw him. To be honest, I don't think he would have answered, he was knocked out cold and being dragged by some hirsute blond; I deemed the question futile at that very moment.

Oh and by the way, I had settled in New York, rotating between the Upper and Lower East Sides, seemed like a good idea at the time. Look, I had been claiming eccentric nobility for over a century, it was bound to finally become true.

* * *

As you kids know both World Wars happened, well during the second one, Nazi Germany invaded Norway in 1940. You could imagine my shock when I read the newspaper reporting on the atrocities committed in 1942. Including how the ancestral royal vault was robbed clean in Tønsberg, by forces commanded by Lieutenant General Johann Schmidt. I broke down right there and then, of course everyone thought it was for the lost lives. It was for a single life, one I thought was long dead, her mission now futile. She gave her life and it was all for nothing.

As you now know, since you've probably been to the Smithsonian Institute, Steve Rogers AKA America's Great Hope AKA One Fine Ass[ed] Bloke, boringly known as Captain America; stopped the bad guys and was declared KIA. The nation mourned his loss, the world mourned his selflessness, statues were built, tributes were made, promises to never forget, time kept on ticking...as always life moved on.

* * *

In the 1960s, I burned some bras, practiced free love, discovered weed, went with the flow, finally decided to be a student, became a neutralised citizen. I may or may not have started a fire that burned some evidence pertaining to my immortality. Still have no idea how I got away with that, no one was hurt. Certain laws might have been created due to my interference.

By 1995, I returned to New York after being a graduate in four universities, a master in two and a PhD in one. Yes, I might have been free loving all over America, but I have got several letters after my name. I even took a course in stage make-up, sometimes people are too smart for their own good...

* * *

Yeah, this century kinda sucked, but it was the first pancake in the batch, and I only had to wait for almost two decades for that sweet sweet sweet bite of the best damn pancakes in all of the nine realms.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry, I could have done better, just found it really difficult to enjoy this century. Plus, the current news didn't help. Currently, writing the 21st century, have no idea where I am going with that. I'll obviously cover Thor and the Dark World, after that no clue. Initially, I did have an idea with having Darcy as a consultant of sorts in the short-lived SHIELD and/or snippets of Warriorshock misadventures. Open to suggestions... Hey, maybe I'll finally continue my other story.


	5. 21st century: 2000-2011

So yeah, we're finally now in the current century, still in these United States. I can go on about the advances of the internet, technology, the Whopper, but no you folks are screaming for the Scandinavian woman. We will get there eventually.

Y2K bug didn't happen, that was a big laugh. Do you know how I checked my computer? I checked my PC's calendar, then for good measure I changed the date to 31/12/1999 and the time to 23:59, and waited for sixty seconds. Chaos did not reign, I was sorely disappointed.

* * *

For the first six years, I travelled the world. Do you know how difficult it is renewing your English passport after it hadn't been used in a century? Fortunately, my progeny came in handy again. I swear my children must have had discussions about their mother's impending immortality, and divided the necessary tasks according between themselves and their descendants. Cheeky little buggers. Damn you William, three hundred years later, the one true nerd of England still prevails.

I saw La Prick for the first time live and in living colour, the books didn't do it justice, it was [and still is] hideous. But that lovely Nigerian woman I shagged at the top of it, improved my opinion greatly, she helped me see it in a new light. I might never remember how to pronounce her name, but I will always remember the meaning of it - "Everything is Beautiful." We were together for two weeks, she was hoping for adventure, so I duly provided. Your typical holiday romance - sun, sex, sand and miscellaneous.

I finally visited England, it's safe to say that almost everything had changed, my favourite lighthouse was now located at the Hoe. Strange though, it still offered an interesting place to shag...the thrill being I was shagging against it, not in it, with a new spectacular view. Okay, I still did it inside of it, old habits die hard.

The farm was still more or less the same, the Royal Navy boys had definitely improved. Sweet merciful Aphrodite! The abs, the pecs, the thighs, wow... To whoever is responsible for the new training regiment, I salute you. Oh and the Royal Marines...that definitely is more than a state of mind, those ads don't do them full justice. Phew. Nice to know the topography of Plymouth was still the same, everything is still on an incline.

Of course, London had changed drastically, the lights, the noise, the plastic, especially the smell. No more raw sewage lying on the street, indoor plumbing is still the best thing that has ever happened. Forget the internet and all those other gadgets and advances in technology, indoor plumbing is the bees' knees. Some things remained the same though, nice to know the Northern line was still filled with dodgy folks, I might have only used it during its first nine years, but it was still dodgy then.

I also visited Madame Tussauds, to see what all the fuss was about, who knew creepy lifelike and life size wax dolls would be the toast of London. There was even an exhibit on the prominent Lewis family. The name had long been associated with British banking, medicine, infrastructure, science and all round Britishness. Seeing the lifelike wax sculptures of my long dead children and other members of my progeny made me weep and beam with pride. Seeing William, in a surprisingly accurate reenactment of his favourite position, writing a note with his quill, there was the true nerd of England in wax. Well, I wasn't displayed, I guess I have my progeny to thank, but I was mentioned as the daughter of a farmer and that my husband took my name. There were also other nice things said about me. Plus, something about rumours of my sightings, thanks to a special family tradition of naming a descendent that greatly favoured me after me, regardless of whatever the family name was. Strange reading about oneself.

Since I was doing my unofficial world tour, I went to the usual soul searching places, created new memories, buried a few, danced on the grave of one, that rat bastard's - it had been turned into a parking lot, I got many odd looks, I believed I also twerked. Decided to take up yoga for obvious reasons. Do I really need to spell it out? Human pretzel...if you still don't get it, you really need to expand your horizons. I did some cool stuff and people. Oh and I even saw a portrait of myself in the Lourve. Okay, it was mostly my body, my face was obscured by a red veil. How was I to know that one of my many conquests was a renowned painter? It seems I left a very good impression. Damn, I'm really good looking, I would shag myself in a heartbeat. Actually, I already do.

By the end of my tour, I was ready to attempt another degree, since I had all the time in the world, it took a while to decide. By 2009, I had successfully applied to study Political Science at Culver University.

* * *

In 2011, things got really interesting. I had signed up for some star gazing nonsense, that I had assumed would give me 6 easy college credits. Plus, the woman in charge, Dr. Jane Foster, was easy on the eyes. Maybe, I would score, this would be a breeze. Look at little old me using American colloquials, well things were definitely windy at one point. I also remember thinking my only problem would be the doctor's mentor, Dr. Erik Selvig as a potential crotch block...or another potential conquest. I might be considered a shallow woman, but I will always admire a beautiful mind. If that mind came with a beautiful body...even better. Remember kids - beauty fades, but stupidity is forever.

Who said nothing interesting ever happens in Puente Antiguo, New Mexico? Yes, that blond Adonis happened, Mr. Mighty Thor. I won't lie, I would have mounted him if he had been willing and hadn't possessed the crazy eyes. I tasered him instead, ah the beautiful irony - the god of thunder got electrocuted. One of my proudest moments, in hindsight of course.

At the time, the general consensus was Thor was a homeless man, with Erik believing he was highly delusional and dangerous. I just wanted a little piece, but it seemed he and Jane had some serious chemistry, so I didn't bother. He kept claiming he was a god, Erik kept dissuading us. Then some spooks arrived and collected all our equipment and information. Some wanker actually took my iPod! I had just finally decided to get one of those annoying white rectangles. I couldn't exactly carry my gramophone with me.

Thor went off to retrieve his mighty meow meow, while Jane discretely helped. Apparently, he kicked ass, but failed to get it back. I had to hastily make the world's crappiest fake ID to help bail him out. To be honest, I was feeling angsty dealing with American spooks, the rumours of Area 51 had to be plausible, I am a freak of nature as you know, and I had lived in America long enough to fear it.

Thor came back a changed man, he seemed resolved to his fate, to live a normal life, with Jane by his side, of course. Then the oddest, most wonderful and terrible thing happened.

* * *

I heard a pounding on the sliding door, then the words "Found you," and the sounds of crashing mugs. I still hadn't seen the source of the ruckus, but from the expressions on Jane and Erik's faces, I guessed it would be something.

It was something alright, I finally turned to see what all the fuss was about. And there standing a few feet away, was the love of my life. There was no doubt who she was, she might not have been wearing her helmet or the Norwegian colours, but there she was starring back at me. I remember how quiet everything was, I later found out I had Fandral and Thor to thank for that, stopping Volstagg and Erik respectively from interrupting. A special shout out to Hogun, who covered Volstagg's mouth shut, when he attempted to shout a hearty cheer during our rather racy reunion.

Now, I'm sure normal folks would react by fainting and/or crying, well we were not normal folks. We reacted by kissing the living day lights out of each other. I'm impressed by our combined lung capacity. We just went for it, if it were an Olympic sport, we would have won the gold and set the World Record. It went from PG to oh bullocks they are going to do it right this instant, if we don't stop them now. Although, I'm quite grateful...now...that the Warriors Three stopped us.

Then after almost two hundred years, I heard her speak for the first time, "I believe you have something to tell me?"

"You don't say? Do pray tell, my love."

Another kiss, more chaste than the previous one.

"My lady, I see you have not lost your wit or...your body." Sif took her time admiring me like she had just reacquired and rediscovered a lost work of art.

"I see you still admire the painting." I smirked back at her, getting reacquainted with parts of her I had missed.

"The artist must." Sif smiled back and I responded in kind, indulging in the shared memory of our first meeting many years ago.

Then she explained who she really was, how Loki betrayed her and how she was punished for a century as a result. Instead of arguing on her behalf, he decided to get rid of her. She never knew exactly why, but she believed he needed her out of the way for whatever reason. Then, I explained to her about my life, which included the rat bastard's theory about me. It's safe to say, we ran out of mugs. After the latest crashing of mugs, I smirked and shrugged at Jane and Erik's shocked faces, "Yes I know, I look good for 353, because I'm worth it."

Thor actually came up to me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said "I kept my word as best as I could." Then I realised he was the blond I saw the back of. So yes, the god of thunder has seen me cry and blubber, now I really don't feel bad for tasering him. Okay, I didn't feel bad when I did it in the first place.

* * *

Of course, his royal wanker, Loki, was behind all of this. He sent, what I could only describe as a giant fire sprouting empty knight amour, to attack Thor, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. Now, I know the Destroyer destroyed a lot, but watching Sif in action was brilliant, watching that body do what it did, when she jumped down from the roof onto the Destroyer, impaling it with a her double-bladed sword. Oh dear Lord, the smile on her face, that glint in her eyes; I would have gladly taken her there and then. Unfortunately, the Destroyer thought otherwise.

Thor pleaded with Loki to spare everyone's lives in exchange for his own. Loki accepted, but meow meow didn't. Yes, I know it's called Mjolnir, but meow meow sounds awesome. Talk about a transformation, unlike Sif, it seemed his outfit was the same as it was those many years ago, complete with the helmet. He really was imposing, the fight ended 2 minutes and 13 seconds later. Yes I timed it, it seemed the appropriate thing to do.

* * *

Thor flew off with Jane, we had to get a ride with the spooks.

"You couldn't possess the power of flight?"

"I am simply a trusted warrior, he is the crown prince of Asgard."

"Yes indeed, you are a warrior," I leaned closer and whispered "I would have taken you right where you stood, after you had thrust your sword into that vile creature's back."

"I would have allowed you."

That did it, I kissed her with sheer abandon, it took the lead spook loudly clearing his throat for us to break apart. Okay, he might have tapped my shoulder a few times and may have had the driver stop the car abruptly, and then let momentum do its job. What can I say? In my defence, you would have done the same.

"Would you care to explain yourself Miss Lewis?" he asked.

"She will do no such thing, if any harm becomes of her, son of Coul, consider our treaty broken."

The spook was definitely spooked, I shrugged and attempted to make up an excuse about making fast friends, I didn't bother. Instead, I proceeded to make out, keeping it strictly PG, okay maybe 15...definitely not X, 18, NC-17, R or M.

We said our goodbyes, she promised to return. We definitely made out again, we put whatever Thor and Jane were doing to shame. Well, they had only known it each other for a fortnight or whatever it was. Sif and I had a decade of bliss and a lifetime of loss, we would do what we damn well pleased.

The minute Jane and I noticed the stormy skies and that faint, but final sound of lightning; we knew their promises to return would take a while to fulfil. But what's a few years to a woman, who waited almost 200?

* * *

**A/N**: Hopefully, it didn't suck too much. The next chapter will cover the Dark World and the Agents of Shield episode that featured Sif, after that I've got no clue, maybe keep hoping for the best?


End file.
